


The Way We Are

by Saoirse_Laochra



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Drabble, Episode 3x2, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 21:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15916824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saoirse_Laochra/pseuds/Saoirse_Laochra
Summary: Short drabble about something I noticed in Episode 3x2, 'Sara', and how Roy seemed to be waiting for a physical reaction from Oliver. It sort of expanded into a drabble piece. I might add more to this as I go through the show.





	The Way We Are

Oliver didn’t have to read the note to know that, whatever it said, it was bad, and definitely not something that he actually wanted to read. Something that was almost guaranteed to piss him off.

He knew that from Roy’s downturned head, the way the finest of tremors caused the boy’s hand to shake as he held the note out, the way his eyes closed tightly, for just a moment, waiting for the fist to drop.

Oliver wasn’t stupid; despite the fact that he’d grown up, cossetted from the real world, and the ugliness that lay within, he knew why Roy shook. Why Roy pushed himself to exhaustion, with no thought of the danger, or consequences of what he was doing, why he apologized for the inconvenience of every injury he received, why he wouldn’t change in front of Dig, or Felicity, or anyone, really, other than Oliver.

Roy hadn’t grown up cossetted; he hadn’t grown up with parents who -despite their flaws -protected, loved, and cherished them. Roy’s every action and reaction, from getting kicked out of elementary school repeatedly due to fighting, to stealing right up until he started a relationship with Thea, speaks to exactly how Roy Harper grew up.

And that’s why, _despite_ his anger… _Despite_ all the crap going wrong at that exact moment, _despite_ how this was the last thing he needed, _despite_ the fact that Roy had _lied_ to him, lied to his face, had let him think everything was okay…

Oliver couldn’t bring himself to lash out, like he normally would. He couldn’t even muster up a sarcastic response, his usual fallback to lashing out. He couldn’t demand answers, get in Roy’s face, like he would anyone else who’d lied to him about his sister.

No. Instead, he just folded up the note, and put it in his pocket, giving Roy a nod.

And when Roy startled, for just a moment, clearly surprised at the reaction, before scuttling away, trying to put as much distance between the two of them as possible…

Oliver felt another piece of his heart shatter.

Because he saw pieces of his own disease in Roy; something that no one, much less a child, should ever have to deal with.

The paranoia, constantly watching over your shoulder, waiting for the hammer to fall, for the bad thing to happen, because, well, when was the last time something good happened?

The hyper-awareness, always watching everyone’s movements, always waiting for someone to lash out, for the violence to begin, for fists to begin flying… for someone to start the hurting.

The deeply rooted drive to keep everything close to the vest, to share nothing that could be used against you later, to control what information people know, and what they don’t.

Different reasons, definitely. But the same end result.

A broken, distrustful human being.


End file.
